


Coffee Before Shawarma

by B0WSandARR0WS



Series: Corner Coffee [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Post Avengers (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:25:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B0WSandARR0WS/pseuds/B0WSandARR0WS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Avengers, they stop for coffee before going to get Shawarma. Bruce is uncomfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Before Shawarma

They’re all exhausted after the fight (Bruce REFUSES to call it a Battle like Thor does), but apparently Clint ‘needed to go and get something’, and Natasha agreed, so here they are in a place that definitely does NOT sell shawarma. At least they’ve found him some clothes. It’s not actually so bad here; the walls are a gentle faded brown striped downwards with purple that somehow refuses to look garish, well-balanced out by the framed sepia pictures hanging everywhere and the violet fabric lamps that hang from the ceiling, complementing the purple fabric armchairs, wooden tables and brown leather seats. It’s quite… calming, actually.

The girl at the counter has long, brown hair and a pale-ish face which she’s slowly thumping onto the counter again and again, looking sheepish and busying herself with some coffee cups when she hears the little bell at the door ring. Clint makes a ‘stay here’ gesture at them, so Bruce and the others stay back by the door while Clint moves forward.

“Hey, Nette,” he says, leaning on the counter. The girl doesn’t look up. “I suppose you had something to do with this.”

“Yes?”

“Well then, where the HELL have you been!” Clint cringes when she hits him hard on the arm. “George and I were worried sick about you when you didn’t come into work and then suddenly big fucking Aliens on fucking jet-skis were coming down over that Stark Tower and then the flying Whales—we were helping the others get to safety, hiding in the kitchen, just staying off the streets and locking doors like you said in a crisis, and there were aliens and a blue portal thingymajig and you didn’t even bother to give us a PHONE CALL!”

“Nette, I was trying to fix it!” Clint says, touching her arm gently. The girl looks up, sees the Avengers, and sighs.

“GEORGE!” She yells back towards another room. “You’d better get out here!” She looks sternly at Clint and places her hands on her hips. “You know he’s gonna kill you, right?” She says conversationally. Clint groans.

“Ugh, god yes.” Natasha looks at him with an evil smile.

“Don’t stare at him like that, _Evil Redhead_ —it gives me the creeps.” She says, shuddering. What’s going on? The rest of the avengers have huddled together in a little gaggle while Clint and Natasha are standing by or leaning on the counter. “And who are you, Muscle Man? I gotta say, Clint, his arms rival yours—no, wait, sorry, they beat you by a mile, oh, _burn_!” She snaps her fingers and Clint mutters something about ‘fucking gods from fucking Asgard’ sulking and crossing his arms.

“Well, he’s no Super Hot Guy,” He teases, to which she replies lightly,

“I can give him a new nickname if you really want, but I do think Muscle Man would be more appropriate…” Clint smirks.

“So who are the others?” The woman laughs.

“Well, the one in blue’s easy; Captain America of course, Phil’s shown me those comics enough times—actually, where is he? Shouldn’t he be--” She’s cut off when Natasha makes a cut-throat motion with her hand. “Nah, he’s probably around, helping with clean-up, you know.” Clint waves a hand dismissively.

“Go on…”

“Give me a sec, actually, Captain-- don’t I know you from earlier… Gorgeous Blue Eyes!” Natasha smiles and Steve looks down at the floor, flushing and obviously remembering something. Annette—or so her nametag says—smiles. “So, we’ve got the good Captain already… Tall, blonde and handsome, wearing the right costume, and the shield, Phil would be drooling right now; are you sure you’re not really Captain America?” Steve blushes and shifts in his spot, clearing his throat awkwardly. She continues, smiling, “We’ve gone past Hot Guy and Evil Redhead, we all know Iron Man, done Muscle Man, onto—oh, yes, you.” Her gaze lands unnervingly on Bruce, scrutinizing him for a moment with her eyes narrowing. She nods once and looks at Clint, and then back at him.

“Who’s he?” Clint asks, smiling.

“Puppy eyes.” She says definitively. Puppy eyes? He does not have puppy eyes.

“Puppy Eyes?” She nods.

“An argument can be made for Fluffy Hair.” FLUFFY HAIR?

“Why Puppy Eyes?” Someone asks. The woman scoffs.

“Oh, please! Look at him!” She turns, about to move to stand near Bruce but stopping.

“For some reason, I find myself unwilling to push through the crowd of handsome young men that surround me to reach that particular one over there.” She pauses. “Natasha, grab Puppy Eyes’ face and show everyone.” Natasha grabs his face compliantly and turns it around, lifting it up and taking off his glasses to showcase his so-called ‘puppy dog eyes’ grimly. What the hell? This woman must have some sort of authority if she can command the Back Widow without so much as a question. “See? Puppy. Eyes.” The gaggle of Avengers make a collective kind of ‘oh, I see it now’ noise (which is really stupid as Bruce friggin’ Banner does NOT have Puppy Eyes.) “Now smoosh his face a little. And tell me how fluffy his hair is.”

Sure enough, his face gets squidged a bit and a hand cards through his hair once, then again. And a third time.

“Surprisingly fluffy.” Natasha says with a smile a moment later, fluffing his hair. Suddenly, the door to what Bruce presumes is the kitchen is flung open, revealing a very angry man who’s clutching a frying pan, covered in flour from head to toe with a hand on his hip and wearing a pale yellow apron that’s embroidered in green with the word ‘George’ entwined with a bunch of flowers.

“Clinton FRANCIS BARTON, why weren’t you in this morning? Aliens RAINING down from the sky and you don’t even drop by, you call yourself a secret agent, and then I see you in the thick of it with a Captain America look-alike, a big green dude and a guy swinging around a hammer with lightning, Natasha on the roof of STARK TOWER--” he stops with a highly dramatic gasp as his head swivels to stare at the assembled Avengers. “And you didn’t THINK to tell me that you know IRON MAN!” He smacks Clint’s arm, hard, with every word. And once, gently, with the frying pan.

“Hey! It’s not that bad, I only met him yesterday so—stop hitting me George!”

He whines, grabbing George’s flailing hands. “Phil’s known him for, like, a year, and so has Tasha!” Another dramatic gasp issues from George and he glares at her.

“Well, Phil’s not here so you two children have to help me—I’ve been baking for all these civilians that have been hiding in the kitchen, and I’m sure a visit from Iron Man would really raise their spirits. Tasha, I think you might just scare them to be honest.” Natasha shrugs.

“How about a visit from Hawkeye?” Clint offers. George snorts.

“Oh, yes, I know all about your codename, Agent Barton. Trust me, as admittedly gorgeous as you are, I think they’d prefer Iron Man.” He gives Tony a look. “Oh, and if all of you were involved with this, then,” he walks around and smacks everyone on the arm but Tony, eyeing the Iron Man suit cautiously before muttering, “As if I’d try to hit that, I’d like to keep my arm thank you very much.” and batting his eyelashes instead. Tony just looks confused. “And thank you. I saw what you were doing out there, and Tasha, darling; you have never looked more evil in your life. But you saved us all, so you will get free coffee and the pastries that happen to be nearly finished, whether you like it or not.”

The Avengers minus Natasha and Clint huddle closer together, though Bruce isn’t sure whether everyone is trying to hide from George or to cuddle Thor who he swears is like a furnace. George narrows his eyes and brandishes the frying pan.

“Who are you?” Clint lays a hand on his arm. “They’re the guys outside who--”

“Yes, I know that Clint, I’m not an idiot, who are they really? And why is one of them dressed like Captain America?” Clint coughs awkwardly.

“Um, Steve?” Steve blushes and looks uncomfortable. George raises an eyebrow.

“Er, I kind of… am Captain America?” The other eyebrow raises up to join the first.

“The Captain America? The one who lived in the ‘40s?”

“Um… Sort of? Yes. No! No, wait. Yes. Yes, I am. Maybe?” Natasha sighs.

“Yes, Steve, you are.”

“Okay, yes. I am.”

“THE Captain America who lived in the ‘40s. Meaning you’d be, like ninety.”

“Uh-huh. Well, ninety-five.”

“Ninety-five. I don’t look like that now, let alone at ninety-five!”

“Well, I was kind of frozen in ice in the Arctic Circle for almost seventy years. But yes. Technically I’m twenty-five.”

“Frozen in ice.”

“Phil blew his shit.” Clint adds helpfully.

“For seventy years.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I believe you. Ish. Oh, I give up on you, Clint. You will always have weird friends.” He shakes his head. “Never mind. I know that one now, and of course I know the fabulous Iron Man. Barton, introduce me to the rest of your friends—Hammer Time and… Fluffy Hair. Oh, god, I’m turning into Nette, did you like my nickname?”

“Oh, yes George; I am finally converting you to my nicknaming land! I called him Fluffy Hair too! And Puppy Eyes.” George makes that ‘I see now’ noise. What. The. Hell. HE DOES NOT HAVE PUPPY EYES! OR FLUFFY HAIR!

“Oh, don’t remind me.”

“I don’t have puppy eyes.” Bruce mumbles. The Avengers give him a Look. “Fine!”

“What’s his name?”

“Bruce.”

“Nice to meet you, Bruce.”

“You too."

"And this gorgeous one is…” Thor sweeps forward and gives George a manly hug.

“Greetings, friend of Clint!” George gives a very masculine giggle.

“Um… hi?” George giggles again when Thor steps away and bows.

“I am Prince Thor, of Asgard.”

“Oh. Hello. Hello.”

“Hello?” Thor looks confused.

“Hi.” He giggles again.

“What are you called?”

“Um. George.”

“Greetings, George!”

“Hi.” Thor retreats back into the gaggle of Avengers, and Annette swoops in to relieve him from his embarrassment.

“Hey, you guys saved New York—I’d say that that would get you free coffee.”

“Yeah. We’ll have six of The Coffee.” Clint orders. "You will love it."

“What’s The Coffee?” Somehow Bruce knows that it’s Capitalized anyway.

“Oh God Bruce, it’s the best coffee you’ll ever try, seriously—you know how no coffee is ever strong enough? They get just right, it’s ridiculous--” he stops short as Annette hands him six cups of coffee. “Oh, here, try.” He says, thrusting a cup into his (and everyone else’s) hands. Everyone shuts their eyes in pleasure as they each take a sip of the perfect coffee.

Annette leans forward with her elbows on the counter. “So, if you people were the guys outside, where’s the Green Dude?”

“Oh, the Hulk?” “Yah. I mean, Puppy Eyes, I couldn’t see you out there—it’s like you lost one and gained one. No offence, of course, to you.”

“None taken. The Other Guy…”

“I think he’s awesome. Where does he stay or… well, you know, live?”

“It’s kind of complicated.” Bruce gives a tiny wave.

“Hello.”

“What?”

“When Bruce gets angry, he goes a little… green.”

“Really? Wow, that’s AMAZING. Seriously, I think you’re awesome…”

By the time they eventually get to the Shawarma place, everyone is long gone.


End file.
